Bullet Bay
by beb
Summary: Shaggy gets a little shaggier when they run into a plague of wolfmen in Bullet Bay, Michigan. Batman's there because one of his enemies is behind the hirsute hysteria. Can the Scooby Doo gang help the Gotham manhunter put an end to this terror?
1. Chapter 1

The hunter had tracked his target through the forest, strangely elongated footprints with most of the weight carried on the toes. The trail lead into this small village but he had lost the trail when the target had taken to the paved roads there. The hunter had climbed to the top of this two story building in hopes of making a visual contact with the target.

The village was located on the shores of a small bay leading out to Lake Superior on Michigan's northern coast. A state road came down from a ridge, swept past the busy harbor at the foot of the bay before drifting back into the woods on its way to Wisconsin. The village stretched six blocks long and one block deep. The forest surrounded it on all sides that weren't lake. Houses were built out into the woods with some rather large mansions running along the ridge back of the village. In the summer the population of the village tripled from tourists. It was an unlikely place for a mystery, one that would call the hunter from so far away.

He had swept the area with a small but powerful monocular when movement on the road caught his eye. A gaily painted van had emerged from the forest. It traveled slowly through the village until it came across from the harbor and turned into some angle-parking on that block. "Mystery Incorporated. What are they doing here?" the Hunter wondered. It seemed very unlikely that they had come for the same thing but then, they did seek out strange mysteries and uncanny happenings. The hunter put the monocular back too his eye and watched to see what the Scooby Doo gang was up to.

][

"So this is where your uncle live?" Daphne Blake asked, as the doors of the van popped open and the four members of Mystery Incorporated (five counting the great Dane) spilled out of the vehicle.

"Yep. Bullet Bay. We used to come up here every summer for a month or so. He owns that island over there," Shaggy waved a lanky arm across the street, past the harbor, out to the distance where a large island all but plugged the mouth of the bay. "Bullet Island!"

"What an odd name." Velma said.

"There's all sorts of explanations for the islands name. Some say it's called Bullet Island because it looks like a bullet aimed for the shore. Other said that back during the French and Indian war French traders would sells guns and ammunition there to the Indians so they could fight against the English. The one I like best is that during Prohibition the island was a major staging point for rum runners. And there was so many of them that they kept fighting over the rights to the island. So the place is, like, littered with bullets.

"How do we get there?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, we're not going out there. It's a wildlife sanctuary. He does research on wolves there. We're staying at his house on shore. He said we could stay there while we're here."

Fred closed the engine compartment where he had just added a quart of oil. He was wiping his hands on a shop cloth as he joined the others. "OK. I want to cash some of these traveler's checks, then we can look up your uncle." he said, pulling the checks out of his wallet before climbing up to the bank's doors. The others followed.

"You know, he's not really my uncle," Shaggy said as they formed into a line inside the dim bank lobby. "He's just a friend of the family. We just called him Uncle Eric because..." Shaggy thought for a moment but couldn't think of a reason. "Because we just do."

"R-uncle" Scooby agreed before wandering around sniffing at the unusual scents inside.

The bank was a century old building. You could tell from the grooves worn into the marble flooring from decades of people shuffling in and out of the place. Light from the barred windows overwhelmed the few, small lights mounted high in the ceiling. A section of the back wall was fitted out as a teller's cage with an old fashion brass grills running eight feet high around the teller's windows. Fred has paused at a pedestal table in the middle of the lobby to sign the checks, returned a cheerful "Morning" to a departing patron, then took his place in front of the teller. "I want to cash these, if I could," he began but the teller wasn't listening.

He was a short, slender man, dressed on a suit and tie, somewhat shiny from wear. He had small, near-sighted eyes. Reading glasses hung on a chain around his neck. He was busy scratching his bald head, the side of his neck, under his chin, one arm then the other.

"Is it just me or his his five o'clock shadow - growing!" Velma wondered.

"I thought he was clean-shaven when we came in," Daphne said, confused.

The man's face was now heavy with a thick beard that descended below his shirt collar in one direction and climbed nearly the length of his cheeks in the other. His scalp which had glinted with oily shine when they came in now sported four inches of shaggy hair. His eyes were becoming pin-pricks as he squinted around. His eyebrows had grown together into one heavy line below a forehead that visible grew shorter as his hair grew longer, shaggier. He had continued twitching but at the sound of Daphne's voice he had looked up. His beady little eyes fixed on Daphne. He seemed to howl beastly, then leaped up on his counter, grabbed the top of the brass bars on his cage and vaulted over, landing lightly next to the four adventurers. Another leap and he had seized Daphne and carried her to the ground. They thrashed around on the floor as Daphne tried to push him off.

With an outraged cry Fred flung himself on the beast-man. He tried to pull the changed man off the pretty blonde but found the creature's arm almost iron-like in their rigidity. People often misjudge Frederick Jones' strength because they think anyone wearing an ascot can't be athletic. While he was unable to break the creature's grip on Daphne he was able to pull the man off the floor. As she felt that floor receding, Daphne went limp and eeled out of the beast's grip and scooted across the floor and behind the pedestal table. She found Shaggy and Scooby Doo already there.

Velma was digging into one of the pockets in her skirt and pulled out a lipstick-size canister. "Let him go, Freddy, I've got some Mace." she announced. Fred was flung against the room as the monster swirled, looking for his missing prey. It took at step towards Velma, who emptied the tiny canister in its face. It screamed also human-like, clawed at its eyes then dashed towards the doors, banged on one side of the frame, then the other before getting through and ran off. Fred picked himself off the floor and ran to the door to give chase but by the time he got there the monster had disappeared.

][

Daphne was sitting in the passenger seat of the Mystery Bus when the Sheriff arrived. Freddy had insisted she rest there from her ordeal while Daphne insisted that she was all right. Shaggy was concerned whether Daphne had been bitten or scratched by the transformed teller. "That's how it spreads," he insisted. "One bite or scratch and you turn into a werewolf!"

"I think that only applies to Zombies, Shaggy," Velma tried to explain. "in any case this wasn't a case of werewolfism. It's not night and there wouldn't be a full moon for another week."

"R-ombies!" the great Dane shivered.

"Wolfmen!" Velma corrected.

The Sheriff was a medium size man in his early forties. His straight back and extreme crew-cut would have proclaimed him ex-military even without the "semper fi" sticker on the back window of his vehicle. He drove a massive Hummer H-1, followed by two deputies in Jeep Cherokees. He sent the deputies around back of the bank to check that no one was trying to break in there while he interviewed the four teens. He spoke in a booming voice and seemed nonplussed by Fred's narration of the teller turning into some kind of wolf-man, attacking Daphne before running out the door.

"You seem to be taking this all pretty casually," Daphne said. "Most people find it pretty hard to believe it when someone says they see someone turn into a monster right in front of their eyes."

"I probably shouldn't say anything," the sheriff said, "but this is not the first case we've had of lycanthropy."

"Wolfmanism," Velma vainly tried to correct.

"Really, how many people have been afflicted?" Fred asked, ever the curious one.

"Around six, The bank president, Mr. Peterson, The Mayor's assistant, Mr. Ingle, a mechanic, Bob Thorpe, Cap'n Hoar..."

"Whore?" Shaggy sniggered.

"Hoar. H-O-A-R. I know it's a pretty unfortunately name. I don't know why he hasn't changed it, but maybe it's good for business. He runs, or ran, one of the charter boat services in town. A barber named Bruce and now Tom Phelps." He shook his head sadly.

"Anything they have in common?"

The sheriff looked at this intently before answering. "I know you people now, you're those roving crime solvers, Mysterybusters, or something."

"Mystery Incorporated," Fred corrected proudly.

"Right. I'll tell you what I'm sure every other sheriff and police chief has told you: 'Stay out of this. Leave it to the professionals!' "

"Sure thing, Mr. Sheriff Man!" Shaggy hastily agreed. "Ru-huh! Ru-huh!" Scooby agreed.

"Did that dog just speak?" The Sheriff asked.

"I'm sure it was just your imagination," Fred said smoothly. It was easier to deny that Scooby Doo could speak than to admit it.

"But, Sheriff," Velma asked, "with six people turned into wolfmen, or whatever, don't you wonder what, if anything, they might have in common?"

"They were all bald," The sheriff laughed. "It's kind of ironic, don't you think, for a bunch of bald guys to turned into hairy monsters?"

His radio squawked. He spoke softly into the microphone, listened to something on his earpiece. "I've got to go. Someone's breaking into the trash down at the diner. I'll need you to come down to the station later on and make a formal statement about what happened here, OK? And don't try to solve this yourself; leave it to the professionals." He got into the Hummer and pulled out into the highway.

"How am I going to cash these traveler's checks?" Fred whined. The deputies had finished their circuit of the back of the bank and now was festooning the bank entrance with yellow police tape.

"We should find Shaggy's Uncle's house and get settled down there," Daphne said. "We can figure out these others things later."

][

The hunter was already on the move as the van backed out if it's parking spot and headed down the road

][

Eric Mann's house was a a couple blocks off the highway amid a lot of other old houses, some grand Victorians and others small cottages made of field stone and now moss and ivy covered. Mann's house was in a heavily shaded lot. There was a drive and garage on one side, an overgrown front lawn and a larger back lawn even more overgrown with brush. The house was square, low with a high peaked roof. There was a kitchen, living room and a bedroom and bath on the ground floor. The bedroom looked like it was Shaggy's uncle's. The attic had been finished into two spare bedrooms. The larger looked out a gable window towards the harbor. Daphne and Velma took that room. Fred took the smaller room overlooking the back yard. Shaggy would sleep down stairs on the couch. Between his snoring, Scooby Doo's snoring and Shaggy's tendency to watch TV late into the night it was always easier to give him the couch.

Daphne had dragged her suitcase upstairs and was carefully unpacking it, working her way around Velma's case, which had been abandoned in the middle of the floor. Velma was downstairs setting up her laptop on the kitchen table, plugging in her cellphone to act as her web access, and warming up the tiny printer. Freddy was bringing in some of the supplies from the Mystery Bus. Shaggy was checking out the channels on his uncle's cable system. Velma was typing in the names of the six victims the Sheriff had mentioned and was googling their addresses when there was a knock on their back door.

She frowned. Who would come visit them? And why knock on the back door? She locked her computer out of habit and walked to the door. She opened the door, then frozen there, staring at their visitor. "F - F - F - Freddy," she stammered.

"What?" came from the living room.

"May I come in," a deep, whispered voiced asked from in front of Velma.

She tried to speak but couldn't. The best she could do was step aside and let their visitor in.

"Velma, what is i-i-i" Freddy spoke as he came into the kitchen with an armful of food to put away. They crashed to the floor. "Buh-buh-buh."

"It's not like we haven't met before," Batman whispered. "You helped me once capture the Joker and the Penguin."

"Y-e-s, yes we did. I just never expected to met you here - or ever."

"I was as surprised to see you here. What brings you to Bullet Bay?" Batman asked, ever focused on the task at hand.

"We were on our way to Minneapolis where there's a report of a poltergeist running amok at a magician's college. Shaggy's uncle - or family friend - said we could crash in his house in the way there."

"What about the hairy man who attacked you at the bank?"

"You heard about that?" Velma asked.

"I try to keep up."

Velma looked at the tall, masked stranger, her idol when it came to crime investigations, and wondered if he was making a joke. She dismissed the idea. There was no way Batman would ever crack a joke.

"Tell me about the creature in the bank," Batman commanded. Everyone turned towards Daphne, who always felt conspicuous in such situations. She recounted the story in as few words as she could, then answered a couple questions Batman asked. "You know," she added, "thinking about it, I don't think the - ah - wolfman was trying to hurt me. I think he was trying to kiss me."

"Why would a perfect stranger want to kiss you?" Freddy wondered.

"Why, indeed." Velma murmured.

"Well..." Daphne paused, embarrassed, "he was making fish lips, you know, and he didn't really try to tear or claw at me, like, you know, if he was trying to hurt me."

"R-onster R-asher..." Scoody Doo giggled as he padded into the kitchen.

"If I ever get me hands on him..." Freddy began, unconscious of the note of jealousy in his tone.

"So you're not here looking for these men turned hairy monsters? I am. I hear rumors that an old enemy of mine was conducting experiments here. I have been trying to capture one of these - ah - 'wolfmen' but so far have not been able to find one. While you're here perhaps you could help me."

"Anything, Batman," Velma gushed. "We'd be glad to help," Freddy added.

"I'd like you to go around the village and find out all you can about the victims, what they had in common, what they were doing when they changed and so on. I'd do it myself but I am rather conspicuous and I don't want to let the mastermind behind all this to know I'm here."

"Who's behind all this?" Velma asked.

"I'd rather not saw, since it's only speculation. it could be any of a number of villains. Any one of these would be extremely dangerous so don't try to get close to them. I know you like to solve mysteries on your own but in this case, please, leave the actual capture to a professional."

"Gotcha!" Freddy agreed.

"If you're - like, a professional, does that mean you have a union card and everything?" Shaggy asked.

"Shaggy!" Daphne scolded. "He's The Batman, he belongs to the Justice League. He doesn't need a - a - 'union card.'

"Actually I have credentials from numerous law-enforcement organizations," the caped crusader replied. "One more thing. You said the bank teller smashed into the door a couple times as he was trying to escape. He may have left hair there which might give us a clue to what caused his change. Perhaps Velma could go collect some samples for me." Batman reached into his ultility belt and pulled out a small evidence bag. "Here use this. Do you have tweezers. I only have one with me and might need it myself."

"I've got everything in my Utility Purse out in the Mystery Van."

"Good." Batman suppressed a smile that Velma has a utility bag like he had a utility belt. "You know the drill on collecting evidence?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then I'll leave it up to you." Batman was about to leave, then looked at Scooby Doo speculatively.

"How good of a tracker is he?" the Gotham Manhunter asked. "Do you think he could pick up the creature's trail? I've been trying to get a lead on these disappearing men without much success. Maybe a bloodhound is what I need."

Scooby Doo stood up on his hind legs and crossed his front paws over his chest. "R'm a Reat R-ane!" he growled disdainfully.

"You still a dog,' Freddy said. "Would you do it for a Scooby-Snack?" Fred picked up a box that he'd dropped and shook it.

"Runt-ruh."

"Would you do it for _two _Scooby-Snacks?"

"While they're arguing over how many snacks it will take to get him to help you, Batman, I've plotted the locations of where the six victims lived and where they presumably turned into wolfman." The printer began zizzing out paper. As they came out Velma laid them out of the table and taped them together until four sheets made one large map.

"Where did you get the locations of their changes?" Batman asked as he studied the damp map.

"I found a local blog, 'The Bullet Bay Bulletin,' that listed the individual stories."

"Good work."

Velma felt heat raising in her cheeks at the compliment.

"I'll take the dog and search around here," his finger circled a section of the village filled with several restaurants. "That's been reports of 'varmints' rummaging in the garbage cans. While I'm doing that perhaps you could visit the families of the missing men and see if you can find out anything more about their disappearances."

"They were bald as bowling balls," Velma said with a laugh. "Maybe they had a bad reaction to Rogain (tm)."

"This is no laughing matter, Ms. Dinkley." The Batman turned towards the dog, "Let's go." He lead the way out the back door.

"Wow!" Freddy said as he sank into a chair next to Velma. "That was really The Batman. And he wants us to work with him!"

"Earth to Freddy!" Daphne called. "We would have looked into this whether Batman was here or not. That he is here means someone big, someone dangerous, is behind all this. This isn't going to be a lark."

"I agree," Velma said. "The nearest person on the map is Mrs. Alma Peterson, wife of the missing bank president. She leaves about three blocks away. I say we walk over there and have a talk with her, like The Batman said."

][

The restaurant district of Bullet Bay ran one block. There was a pizza joint, Chinese take-out and a sit-down Mexican restaurant. A soft-serve ice cream stand was closed for the season. Batman lead Scoody Doo around the back of these places. Scooby Doo sniffed around a bit, quickly coming to the dumpster behind the pizza joint. "Hmmm R'izza" the dog rumbled, standing up and trying to look down into the bin. Batman grabbed his collar and pulled himself. "No you don't, big boy," he whispered. "We look for the changelings first." He dragged Scooby Doo into the gloom a dozen yards from the stores. "Sniff around here for anything unusual," he directed.

Reluctantly the Great Dane started snuffling along the ground, pausing every couple minutes to look longingly back at the pizza place. They'd gone down most of the block before Scooby jerked up his head, wrinkled his nose and grumbled, "Rhat r'inks!"

Batman looked down at where the dog had been sniffing. Night was falling and it was getting hard to see. He pulled out a small but powerful flashlight and shone its light over the area. "Ah!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Footprints. This is what we're looking for, Scooby Doo, follow that scent."

"R'o I r'ave r'o?"

"Yes, you have to."

Scooby growled.

"Don't make me have to put a muzzle on you. 'cause I've got one," Batman threatened.

They followed the scent back into the forest and along a low ridge, passed a number of large, dark houses, summer houses for rich vacationers, now closed as Fall descended on the small village. They'd followed the trail for about an hour when they came to a barren spot where the rock underlying the ridge had become exposed to the weather. Scooby paused, cast his head to the right and left, then sat down. "R'othing," he sighed.

Batman looked over the rocky path. "Come on," he said. "The changleing either went ahead, or down the ridge to the right or the left. Let's see where we can pick up the trail."

"R'm r'ired." Scooby said, laying his head on his paws.

"It's only been an hour," Batman argued, "how can you be tired. Come on, let's go."

"uht uh."

Batman rolled his eyes, something he never did. 'I'm arguing with a dog,' he thought in disbelief.

After a long minute waiting for Scooby to get up, Batman sighed. How do you incentivive a dog, he wondered. Then recalled how Fred Jones had done it. But he didn't have any dog biscuits in his utility belt. Then he recalled he had something maybe even better. He reached into his utility belt for a wrapped ball about the size of his thumbnail. He peeled off the wrapper. 'I can't believe I'm saying this,' he thought. "Would you do it for a - uh - _bat-snack?_" He waved the round pellet under the dog's nose. Scooby's ears perked up and a long tongue flashed out and snatched the treat from Batman's gloved hand.

"R'erishous! More?"

"Later. I thought you'd like that. It's my emergency rations, a mixture of ground beef jerky, suet and chopped nuts. The Indians called it pemmican. I added some vitamins and caffeine for a pick-me-up. Now let's go or no more treats."

"Rat-snacks!" Scooby said, leaping to his paws. He sniffed around the bald spot, down the ridge and over to the lake side were he picked up the trail again. Batman tossed him another of his rations when he found the track again.

They were getting near the highway next to the lake when they entered an open glade. Batman frozen when he saw the other creature in the glade, scarfing down a hamburger, one of several in a pile on the ground. Scooby Doo was a second slower in seeing the transformed man but wasted no time in placing himself behind the Manhunter.

"Mr Phelps?" Batman called softly. "I'm The Batman. I've come to help you. I mean you no harm."

The wolfman looked up at the sound of Batman's voice. His eyes, burned under a heavy pelt of facial hair, widened in fear. He grabbed up the other hamburgers and snarled, "mine!" before running into the woods.

"Wait," Batman called and ran after him.

Unthinking Batman ran over the place where the hamburgers had been sitting on the ground. The next second his foot was yanked out from under him and he was carried bodily into the air. Even as the branch bobbed and swayed under his weight, Batman was scanning the glade for any sign of the traps setter. No one. Even Scooby Doo had run for shelter.

Mad at himself for not thinking about the possibility of a snare, Batman waited for the swaying to settle done, then pulled his legs together and hooked his free leg around the one held by the snare. Most people held upside down by the trap like this would be helpless but the Batman had trained his body hard for years. With concentrated effort he bent his body in half until his hands were able to grab a hold of his legs. He walked his hands up his legs until he reached the rope holding him in the air. A knife appeared in is hand and quickly cut through the rope. He twisted in the air as he fell and landed on his feet. His neck was sore from the wrench of being up-ended. He whistled and the Great Dane slunk out from his hiding place. He considered whether to continue pursuing the changed bank teller and decided it wasn't necessary. Whoever was causing these changelings was busy capturing them, too. Which was why he hadn't been able to find them. Maybe with the fur sample Velma was collecting and the reports from the others he could find another angle to attacking this problem. He flipped another ration chunk towards Scooby Doo. "Let's go home."

* * *

This story was inspired a year and a half ago by the appearance of the first issue of Scooby Doo Team-Up. I thought it could be a great idea but the first issue seemed such a disappointment. Mystery Incorporated is looking into reports of a monster and run into Batman and Robin is is also looking for a monster - Man-Bat! They capture some crooks, Shaggy has shenanigans with Man-Bat, the crooks have to recaptured while Batman rescues Shaggy and gives Man-Bat his antidote. This was supposed to be the meeting of two great detectives and no where was there any detecting involved. So I thought I'd try my hand at it.

It's not as easy as it sounds. In the first version of this story Batman doesn't appear until the third act! I've tried to re-write him into the story earlier which lead to other changes. But I do have the two groups working as a team. Also I don;t think this story can be converted into a 20 page comic book. There just too much going on. Still I'm happy with the central idea.


	2. Chapter 2

The Utility Bag Velma got out of Freddy van was just a cloth messenger-style bag. It slung over her shoulder and hung down by her hips and had room for just about anything she wanted to put in it. It was a dull orange that blended right in with her skirt and sweater. She walked the couple blocks to the highway. The sun, what could be seen behind an overcast day, was lowering the west. The air was cool but not unpleasant. She quite enjoyed the walk. There were only a couple people on sidewalk. She smiled at them as they passed. It was a really nice little village if getting away from it all was what you wanted.

There was police tape festoon across the door of the bank when she got there. She looked to see if anyone was watching, then stepped across. She hadn't expected the door to be closed. That could be a complication, she thought, since her memory was of the transformed bank teller hitting the inside of the door jam. She got out a large magnifying glass and examined the wood frame. She gasped with delight when she saw a few tufts of coarse animal-like hair caught on a splinter. She found her tweezers and carefully pulled them loose and dropped them into a glassite envelope. She wrote a note about time and location before putting the envelope in her bag. She searched for more hairs and put them in separate bags. Putting the glass back in her bag she went next door to a flower shop to interview the owner. There was a spring in her step knowing that she was helping ... The Batman.

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The Peterson house was a big, old Victorian on a large and well maintained lot. A circular drive lead up to door. Fred knocked on the door. Then knocked again when no one answered the door. He was able to knock a third time when a weak, shaky voice called from inside "Go away. I don't want whatever it is you're selling."

"We're not selling anything ma'am." Freddy explained in his most patient voice, "We're Mystery Incorporated and we're investigating the disappearance of your husband. Could we ask a few questions?"

"Go away! I don't have anything more to say."

"But ma'am," Freddy persisted. As Fred was talking Daphne heard a rustling in the bushes behind the house. She wandered around the corner and drifted towards the back of the building. A hooded figure was climbing down the steps from the back door. The person started walking towards a hedge on the back end of the lot.

"Wait!" Daphne cried and ran after the hooded figure. Shaggy had started to follow after Daphne and her cry spurred him on. His long legs quickly overtook that of the hooded figure and he brought him down in a tackle. He was wrestling with the surprising strong stranger when Daphne caught up with him. "What were you doing around Mrs. Peterson's house?" She said, yanking back on the stranger's hood. Daphne gasped as what she saw. It was a woman in her late sixties, small, frail, and very hairy. It wasn't just a little hair under her nose or on her chin. She was a veritable "bearded lady."

Daphne blinked at her for moment, wondering why she looked familiar. "Mrs. Peterson?" she asked at last.

"Don't look at me," she cried, pulling the hood back over her face.

][

Inside the house, they sat around a dinner table sharing a cup of tea. Mrs. Peterson continued to huddle under her hoodie but answered their questions unhesitatingly. She seemed to be relieved to have someone to talk to about her ... condition. They had seen that, like the wolfman who attacked them in the bank, she was covered in hair. Her face was wreathed in a two inch long fine white beard. The backs of her fingers were hairy. Behind the fineness of her beard her eyes were calm, sad and not pinpricks of hate.

Her husband had always been a wonderful man, she said, smart and clever, but a little vain about his hair, which had started thinning in his late twenties, soon after they'd married. It never bothered her but he was always trying out one hair restorative after another. About a week before he disappeared he had brought home something new, which he claimed would be the answer to all their problems. And it did seem to make his hair grow more strongly. She was happy that he was happy. But the restorative had one side-effect she wasn't so certain about. It made her husband very... Mrs. Peterson searched for the right word or at least one she could bear to say. Her husband got very "frisky" and wanted to do it every night. The renewed affection was great the first couple of nights but ... she wasn't as young as she used to be. Then her husband disappeared. Disappeared at the Bank so she had no idea what happened to him. It had been a shock when the sheriff had come around asking questions. Then a few days after her husband had disappeared she started noticing that she was getting hairy. First was the little mustache under her nose, then it was the whiskers on her chin. At first she wasn't concerned. Old women get those hairs all the time. She'd just cut them at night. But when, in the morning, they'd grown back and added some more then she started worrying. Also she had found herself growing irritable at the least little thing. Just like her husband had, she realized. So she had stopped seeing people, hoping that when her husband returned all this would be cleared up. She had great faith that her husband would return and her own weird deformity would clear up in time. And, no, she didn't know who had given it to her husband.

Freddy asked to see the Restorative her husband had been using. Mrs. Peterson brought back a heavy, square-sided glass bottle of about 8 ounces capacity. It had a flat screw cap. It had no labels of any kind on it. It was about a third full. Daphne took a sniff of it and hurriedly recapped the bottle. It smelt pretty rank. She wasn't sure whether Batman could get anything of value out of this but asked nonetheless if she could take it. Mrs. Peterson agreed. Daphne gave it to Shaggy to carry. Then, having no questions to ask, took their leave and went to see the mayor about his missing aide.

Frank Ingle was a life-long bachelor. he lived in a small house, actually an old converted garage and lived, slept and breathed for his work for the mayor. The mayor hadn't noticed anything really different about him until the day he was found in his office, the place torn to shreds, bearded, panting. He lashed out at the mayor then bounced out the doors and that was the last anyone had seen of him. Had Mr. Ingle been using any hair restorative? The mayor would never think to ask such a personal question of one of his employees.

Bob Thorpe, the mechanic had a small gas station just outside of town, which meant, about three blocks from city hall. A nephew of 14 or 15 years of age was tending the filling station. He had been working for his uncle. Then one day when he came in, his uncle wasn't there. Not knowing what else to do he had kept on selling gas and putting off anyone needing work done on their car. He hoped his uncle would come back soon because he was running out of gas and didn't want to have to spend the day around his father. Had his uncle been using a hair restorative? The nephew shrugged his skinny shoulders. His uncle, though, did hate being bald.

][

They couldn't find anyone to talk to about the barber, Bruce, or Captain Hoar. Tired and dejected because they hadn't found much of a clue towards this puzzle, they walked back to Shaggy's Uncle's house. They found Batman sitting at the kitchen table, cape swept to one side, typing in a report on a small cell phone. Velma was sitting across from him using the microscope she kept in the Mystery Van. She was making sketches of what she was looking at. They looked like scaly tubes from what Daphne could see. "Shaggy, come here," Velma asked when she realized the others were there. "Yeah, Vel?" Shaggy asked then yelped in surprise as she plucked a strand of hair from his head. "What's the big idea?" he began but Velma was busy mounting the strand on another microscope slide and fitting on the light table. She flipped to a new page in her notebook before looking down the eyepiece.

"What has you learned?" Batman asked as he put the cell phone away. Freddy recounted their interview with Mrs. Peterson and handed Batman the bottle of her husband's 'Hair Restorative.' He sniffed at the liquid tentatively. Wrinkled his nose and hastily recapped the bottle. "So even though she didn't use any of this herself she came down with hyperpiliosity."

"Hyper-what?" Shaggy asked

"Extreme hairiness," Velma filled in. "You know, the wolfman - or woman - syndrome."

"That suggests," Batman continued, "that this 'tonic' maybe be related to testosterone supplements, which can also by transferred through contact." He reached around to the back of hus utility belt and drew out a small black box. He set it on the table opened it up, pressed a button that lit up a small screen. He flipped open a tiny trapdoor on the surface of the box and carefully poured one drop of the 'tonic' into the opening, then closed the door. He pushed another button. "I can hardly bring a whole crime lab with me," Batman explained, "But this little analyzer can tell me a lot about this liquid in a general way."

Freddy looked over Batman's shoulder for a moment until he noticed the crime-fighter glaring at him. Batman didn't like people standing behind him where he couldn't see what they were doing.

"This is all very interesting but I'm going to take a shower. All this sleuthing has made me sweaty." Shaggy said, leaving the kitchen.

"Don't take too long, supper will be ready in a few minutes," Daphne called after him. She started looking through the various drawers and cupboards in the kitchen looking for something she couldn't find. After a bit Freddy opened the oven door and pulled out a large pot. "My mom always put large pans in the oven," he explained. Daphne filled the pot with water and placed it on the store. She filled a sauce pan with a couple bottles of store-bought spaghetti sauce but didn't light the fire under it. "Are you going to eat with us?" she asked. "It's just vegetarian spaghetti but there's more than enough for everybody."

"I don't eat when I'm on a case," Batman began. He tried not to do anything ordinary when in costume as it distracted from the ominous character he tried to project. But it had been a long day and these people had been helping him on this case. Agreeing was the civilized thing to do, even if it meant getting spaghetti stains on his uniform. "But tonight I'll make an exception."

When Velma was finished making her sketches Batman borrowed the microscope to look at her slides. "Good work, Velma," he said after a moment, "though it doesn't tell us anything we don't already know about the hypergrowth of hair. If I had some of the equipment in the Bat Cave maybe we could got a better idea of what's going on." He looked up and saw her downcast face. 'But if wishes were fishes, we'd all eat well tonight,' eh?" he said to cheer her up. "At least we can rule out The Joker, he said, turning back to the little black box on the table. "The autoanalyzer finds no trace of the Joker Serum that usually present in any biological weapon The Joker makes. That leaves us with only a half-dozen other scientists who could have made this potion, and no reason why."

Daphne was getting out some plates. Batman picked up the small autoanalyzer, closed the lid and snapped it in place on his utility belt. "The way technology is going I may have to replace my utility belt with a larger one, or maybe even a utility bag like yours. They say 'black is the new orange.'" Velma looked at the Caped Crusader with some confusion. Was that a joke?

Velma was putting away her microscope when there was a squawk from the police scanner Freddy had brought in from the Mystery Van. He always liked to have the scanner on in case an interesting mystery should pop up. "Calling all units," the dispatcher began, "Home invasion at 1537 Laurel. Two men or two bears are reported ... Guys, I've got multiple reports and they all disagree about what's happening." The dispatcher had dropped her professional persona to add the last.

"Two bears?" Freddy wondered.

"Or two wolfmen," Batman said. I'll go investigate. Daphne, sorry to miss your supper."

"We'll go with you," Freddy suggested.

"No. I wish to investigate from a distance while the authorities make the actual confrontation. I'll let you know what was happening when I get back." And he was gone before anyone could protest.

][

Batman had developed a lope that covered ground efficiently and effortlessly. He arrived at 1537 Laurel just as the third police car pulled off the highway in front of the house. Lights from the three vehicles covered the front of the small ranch style house in a bright glare. Batman could hear the continued fight inside the house. There were hoarse screams, inarticulate roars, the smashing of furniture and occasionally crockery. Neighbors had gathered around the house but stayed on the road behind the line of police cars.

Batman ran back a block and down a street before coming back to the Laurel address now on the back of the house. It was never wise to get downrange when a gunfight might break out but he reasoned that the police would be reluctant to start shooting - 1537 Laurel was the given address for Tom Phelps, former bank teller and now mutant. As he got near the house he could hear someone speaking. The words were slurred and guttural, like someone trying to speak through a mouthful of teeth. "Tom, ya gotta see the Doc. It's the only way. He'll cure you. He's done wonders for me already. Look, I'm not nearly as hairy as I usta be."

There was a snarl for a reply followed by a great crash of breaking glass. A hairy wolfman burst through the sliding glass door on the back of the house pulled by a second, larger wolfman. He was wearing the shreds of a blue coverall. Batman guessed he must be BobThorpe, the mechanic. In the moment before they collided with him he wondered why Thorpe thought he was getting less hairy. In the early evening light one looked has hairy as the other.

Phelps ran right over Batman, not even seeing that he was there. Thorpe planted a foot on Batman's chest as he vaulted over the fallen detective.

It took Batman a moment to catch his breath, then he was in hot pursuit of the two changelings. As he ran he pulled his Batarang out of his utility belt and shook it out. The weighted tether was excellent for bringing down fleeing suspect, wrapping around their legs in a tangle that was hard to pull loose.

The two beasts ran for a quarter-mile into the woods, Thorpe steadily gaining on the the smaller Mr. Phelps. They had to slow up as they entered the forest, giving Batman a chance to get close to the pursuing larger beast. The caped Crusader let fly with the Batarang It banged into Thorpe's legs, split in two, the strands wrapping and tangling together around his legs. Thorpe fell with a heavy grunt. Batman expected him to be out of action for a while.

Phelps, surprisingly, turned on Batman, throwing a punch at his face. Batman blocked the punch with his arm and the one that followed after that, and a third as well. "Mr Phelps, I am The Batman. I'm here to help you and all the others like you. The doctor you're talking about isn't trying to help you. He's using you for some experiment. Come with me and I'll get you decent medical treatment."

"You'll just put me in a zoo like you do all the other people you help," Phelps growled back.

"Zoo?" The statement had Batman stumped for a moment. He never put anyone on display for any reason. Someone must have anticipated his coming and had filled these victims with weird, twisted lies about him.

He didn't have time for further thought as Phelps again charged him. He slipped to the side, tripping the former bank teller as he charged past, slamming doubled fists onto the back of his head as he fall past. Phelps fell to the ground with grunt and didn't move.

Batman bent over to tie him up when he heard a grunt behind him. He spun on his heels but not quickly enough. A large rock came crashing down on his head. He crumpled to the ground. Dimly he heard someone mutter, "if you want something done right you have to do it yourself!"

And then the rock came crashing down again.

][

After putting her microscope away Velma helped finish setting the table. She wondered at time why it was always her and Daphne cooking meals when they were on trips. It seemed so sexist of the boys not to offer to help. But then it always went so much faster when they did things. The boys were such klutzs in the kitchen.

She was finishing up when Shaggy wandered into the kitchen, wondering when supper was going to be ready. He was wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. Velma hoped there was more to it than faith keeping it up. She was going to say something about that when she caught a whiff of Shaggy's scent. He didn't smell of soap and hot water as one would expect from someone just out of a shower. "What's that smell?" she asked.

"I don't smell anything Shaggy said.

"That's because it's all over you. You smell like garbage, or maybe a skunk."

"More like wet dog hair," Freddy suggested.

"What did you shower with?" Daphne asked as she realized the stench was vaguely familiar.

"The stuff in my Uncle's bathroom," Shaggy told her. \

"Let's see it," she replied and lead the way through the house to the bathroom.

The room was middling size, and contained a washer and drier, as well as sink, toilet and bathtub with a shower head.

"What did you touch in here?" Daphne asked.

"That soap," Shaggy pointed to a wet bar of soap in a dish on the rim of the tub, "And that shampoo." He pointed to a glass bottle sitting on a shelf inside the shower enclosure.

Daphne looked at the bottle closely. "You used this to shampoo your hair?" she asked.

Shaggy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, yeah. It's shampoo, isn't it. I assumed it was because why else would it be in the shower?"

"This looks just like the bottle we took from Mrs. Peterson's house," Daphne said, "The 'hair tonic' that turned her husband into a werewolf."

"Wolfman," Velma corrected automatically

"So I'm going to turn into a monster, too?"

Daphne looked to Freddy for an answer. "It seemed like Mr. Peterson used this for quite a while before anything happened to him. Some of the other people seemed to change almost instantly. How much did you use?"

"You know how I hate oily hair and the water up here is pretty hard so you have to use a lot of soap to get up a good lather..."

"So a lot?" Freddy hazarded.

Shaggy shrugged.

Daphne sighed. "Well have to give this bottle to Batman when he gets back."

Velma took the bottle out of Daphne's hand and examined it. She sniffed at the liquid it contained, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She quickly capped it was slip it into her skirt's pocket to take into the kitchen there the other bottle was.

Shaggy groaned, "Oh, no..." She looked to see him shaking and tearing at his hair, which was sprouting all over his body. Suddenly he leaped at her, pulled her close and tried to jam a bulbous nose in her face. Velma beat at him, shouting his name. As suddenly as he had attacked her, he sprang away growling something that sounded like 'sorry,' leaped over the Great Dane, who had been hovering in the hallway, and fled the house. "R'aggy?" The dog whined in confusion.

"Well!" Freddy in the silence following Shaggy's escape. "I didn't know you and Shaggy were an item, Velma."

"We're not." the redhead declared as she pulled herself off the floor.

"We'd better go after him. I'll get the flashlights out of the Mystery Van," Fred said.

Daphne sighed. So much for supper. She went to the kitchen to turn off the stove.

"And maybe a change of clothes for Shaggy Velma said, holding up the towel their friend had been wearing a moment again.

][

For once Scooby Doo didn't need bribing with snacks to sniff out Shaggy. He lead them out of the house, back into the woods surrounding the village and around towards the bay to the east. Every so often he would pause and howl out a mournful, "R'aggy!" The three remaining members of Mystery Incorporated waves their flashlights all around, looking, at a distance, like a laser-light show at some rock concert. But after an hour of searching they had not found hide nor of their transformed comrade.

"We need to set a trap and draw Shaggy to us," Fred said, pausing in an open glen. This seems like a good place."

"Oh, you and your traps, Freddy," Daphne laughed.

"What are we going to use for bait?" Velma asked in a practical voice.

"We could rely on that heightened libido Mrs. Peterson was talking about," Daphne suggested. "Maybe if Velma were to roll up her skirt some, show a little leg, Shaggy would come running." She laughed lightly.

Velma, still stunned by Shaggy's kiss (surely it didn't mean what it appeared to mean), didn't care to be teased just then and turned on Daphne. "Or we could just have Daphne put on one of her bikinis. That ought to bring Shaggy back running. And all the other victims of this plague as well!"

"Girls, girls," Freddy began, trying to stave off a fight. As he looked past Velma he suddenly shouted "Run!"

Velma looked over her shoulder. "Jinkies!" she exclaimed and bolted after Fred and Daphne.

People tend to look at Velma Dinkly and just see a short, heavy-set girl and assume that she not very athletic. They would be wrong. As a member of Mystery Inc. Velma got a lot of exercise. Mostly running. Away from monsters. Like the four behind her. She was very good at running. She was chugging away, high-stepping over brush and fallen branches, close behind Freddy as apprehension filled her mind. Of the four of them Shaggy was by far the fastest, and Daphne was the slowest. And it never helped that she tended to wear light-weight fashionable shoes instead of study brogues like Velma's. Daphne was going to be caught any moment and then they'd have to go back and rescue her ... and be caught in the process. On cue, there was a yelp of distress from the brunette. Freddy skidded to a stop and went back to help her. Velma gritted her teeth. The best way to help them, she decided was to stay free and alert Batman when her returned. She piled on more speed only to hear a thrashing behind her. She couldn't afford to turn around to look. The thrashing got closer, then suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her to a stop. "Gotcha" a voice snarled. And a cloth heavy with some cold liquid was jammed over her face. She smelt the sweetish fumes of chloroform and tried to fight it off. She couldn't stop panting from her run through. As the fumes filled her head and darkness loomed she had a sudden vision of herself pinned on a giant cardboard next to a multitude of likewise chloroformed butterflies.

...

And then nothing ...

* * *

Has it really been four months since posting the first chapter? This is embarrassing because the second chapter was already to go. The plan was to wait a week, post the second chapter all the while working furiously on the third chapter which being half-done, would have been ready a week later. But that never happened. I'm still not done with the third chapter but it's closer to being finished...


	3. Chapter 3

Velma woke feeling violently ill. While waiting for the spasms to subside she looked around. She appeared to be lying on a cement floor inside some kind of wire cage. The cage was about five feet high and five wide with a wire frame door at the end. She was lying a few feet from the front of the cage but couldn't see how far back the cage went. Judging from the wire making up the cage it was designed to hold a large animals. Black plastic sheeting hung down on the outside of the cage blocking her view of the rest of the room. All she could see through the front was a sturdy, metal covered table in the center of the room and benches and cabinets lined against the far wall.

Gradually she started feeling better. She pushed herself off the floor only to pause from a sharp pain on her right leg. Looking down she saw a large damp patch on her skirt centered around the pocket. She reached into the pocket to see what was there only to jab her fingers on something very sharp. She yanked it out with a cry, stuck it in her mouth to suck out the blood only to immediately spit out the foul-tasting substance on her finger. The smell was bringing back a memory. She reached again into her skirt-pocket more carefully this time and extracted the broken half of a square-faced glass bottle. It reeked of the clear, thick liquid Shaggy had thought was shampoo - the 'shampoo' that had turned him into a wolfman! "Fudge-nuggets! Velma cried. She was tempted to whisper one of those four-letter words that other people used but her mother had brought her up strictly about the use of language. She remembered putting the bottle into her skirt-pocket intending to take it to the kitchen and put it with the bottle from Mrs. Peterson for Batman to look at later. Then Shaggy had transformed and they had all rushed out to find him. It must have still been in her pocket when she was chloroformed and broke sometime while being hauled here, where ever here was.

But there was still a burning pain on her leg. She pulled up her skirt to find a six inch cut running along her thigh. It was a shallow cut and mostly clotted over but still exposed. It must have been cut when the bottle broke. So not only had the wolfman serum been soaking into her skin, which had been enough to transform Shaggy, but it had an open cut to soak into as well. Great. Now she was going to turn into a wolfman just like Shaggy. She'd be stuck in side-show carnivals for the rest of her life - Velma, the bearded lady!

With a snarl, she threw the bottle away from her and leaped at the gate in the cage shaking it back and forth, trying to tear it open with brute force. Eventually her temper cooled and she stood up - as much as a five foot cage allowed - and straightened her clothes. That was just stupid, she thought, wondering if her uncharacteristic outburst was an early sign of her transformation.

"Think, Velma, think," she reminded herself. First, where are the others? "Freddy? Daphne? Shaggy?" she called. The only response when she called Shaggy's name, a drowsy sort of snarl which suggested he was in another cage like this but in no condition to be of any help.

Second: escape. She had to get a message to Batman while she was still rational, to let him know where they were. She had already guessed where that might be - Shaggy's uncle's island wildlife center. Where else would someone have cages large enough to hold wolves - or people! And it's isolation from the rest of the community was perfect for whatever scheme Eric Mann was up to. Velma examined the door to the cage. A simple dropbolt held it shut but a padlock had been run through the tang on the bolt securing the bolt in place. "Jinkies! If only I had a lockpick!" she thought, then remembered that she had never mastered the art of picking locks.

If only, then, she had a file she could cut through the bars around the padlock, but of course she didn't...

Velma slapped her forehead. "I am such an idiot" she whispered. Of course she had a file. After being abducted as many times as she had, she had decided on some pro-active defense. It took the form of a nail file. A harmless looking, ordinary metal nail file, something every girl would carry. Except hers was make of carbide steel and the edge was grooved to form a miniature, diamond-tipped saw. She keep it tucked into her knee-high stockings where people wouldn't think to look.

She dug it out, looked around to make sure no one was watching and started sawing on the bar.

It took a lot longer then she had expected before cutting through the last bar and pushing the cage door open. She tucked the file back into her sock and stepped out. Freddy, Daphne and Shaggy were in the cages next to hers, but unconscious from the effects of the chloroform. A fourth cage held an unknown wolfman, also drugged. Velma wondered who this man could be. Was it the recently transformed bank teller? The creature's fur was surprisingly grey, suggesting an older man. Velma didn't have time to worry who the wolfman was. Rather she was dismayed to find that Fred, Daphne's and Shaggy's cages were all padlocked like hers. It would take her forever to saw through all of them. And she didn't have that kind of time. Either someone would come to check on the prisoners or ... she would change into a wolfman before there.

A Key! padlocks called for keys. Where would one keep one? On a hook by the door? She checked there. There was a hook for keys there, but no key. Next Velma went through the various drawers in the tables but couldn't find a key. This was really testing her patience!

With a growl she slammed the last drawer closed and considered her options. She really needed to get a message to Batman. Her cell phone wasn't on her waistband clip. As if her kidnappers would be so foolish as to leave it with her. Time before her transformation was running out. She had to move. With a sign of regret, Velma pulled the nail file from her sock and tossed it into Daphne's cell. Daphne was a smart kid. She's know what the file was for. Her friends were going to have to look after themselves while she tried to find The Batman. With a last look at them, Velma opened the door and slipped out.

][

Outside the door she paused to take stock. Thirty yards straight ahead was a large stone bungalow. A mercury-vapor light hung from a pole near the back door. It revealed a clearing from the house to the bay. A lane lead from the house to a pier with a connected boathouse. A hundred yards past the house was a tower with a blinking light, probably a lighthouse beacon. Velma concentrated on the boathouse. If there was any way off the island, it would be there.

Because light was coming out of most of the house's windows Velma took off to the left, into the woods on that side of the house. She had barely got pass the house before hearing the howl of a wolf. She paused with a shudder. The howl sounded way too close for her comfort. Taking a bracing deep breathe Velma pushed on.

She was about twenty feet from the boathouse, edging out of the brush,when a number of floodlights flashed on. Velma frozen, then scurried back into the brush. She had barely found cover before the side door of the house and two men stepped out.

"You got the shotgun?" the heavier of the two men asked.

"Don't you have it?" His partner replied.

"I thought you were ... oh, forget it. I'm going back inside to get it."

"The hell with that. Let's just check this out and get back inside. I'm missing my show."

"I'm not going out there without the scattergun. There's wolves out there."

"Du'h. The boss let them loose so we could lock up the furballs. Look, I've got my gun. One shot ought to scare them away." He lead the way towards the boathouse. Velma backed further into brush.

They walked around the boathouse, flashlights flickering into any shadows. "Didn't I tell you it was just wind blowing a branch in line with the remote sensors."

"Doesn't matter. The boss says we got to check out anything unusual."

"Screw that."

"Hey! We do what the boss wants or we become like one of ... them!" the henchman shuddered. "I don't intend to become one of his crazy experiments!"

"Keep calling him crazy' and you'll end up in a fur suit."

"You keep your mouth shut and we'll be alright."

"Maybe it was one of those wolves wandering around. Anyway there's nothing here now. Let's get back inside." The two turned around and went back inside.

Velma watched them leave, then retraced her way back to the shed with the cages. With motion detectors strung all around the boathouse there was no way for her to get inside. Time for Plan B. What was plan B?

She crossed over to the shore and followed it away from the house. She was hoping for a forgotten canoe or rowboat but there was none. Soon the lights from the village came into view.

Velma stopped with a sigh. "I guess I could swim," she thought. The distant, though, was daunting and she suspected the water was icy. Maybe she could put together a raft if she could find a few logs and some vines...

A wolf howled.

It sounded pretty close.

A second howl answered it. Then a third.

Velma slowly turned around. There wasn't one wolf or two or three. There were at least six, all slowly advancing on her.

Velma took a step back.

A light breeze brought a rank smell from the wolves. It smelled familiar. It smelled - Velma gasped - like the chemicals soaked into her skirt. No wonder it turned people into wolfmen, it was derived from wolf pheromones!

Velma unzipped her skirt, stepped out of it and threw it at the advancing beasts. They fell on it with snarls, ripping and tearing at the cloth. But after a moment they stepped over the shredded skirt and continued on towards her.

Velma kept backing up until her feet stepped into water. There was a bit of a drop off causing her to lose her balance. She felt into icy, black water with a loud splash and a squeal of surprise. The water was only a foot deep but as she scrambled to her feet Velma realized that her decision had been made for her. There was no place on the island safe for her. There was no time to make a raft. She was going to have to swim!

She back out into the lake keeping an eye on the wolves. A foot of water wasn't going to stop them if they decided to rush her. The land was falling away rapidly, though, three steps back and she was already waist deep. A couple more and she was floating. She back pedaled about twenty feet, then paused to pull off her sweater. The open knitting normally was so warm and comforting but also soaked up water like a sponge. It already felt leaden about her. She struggled out of the sweater, kicked off her shoes, and turning towards the lights of Bullet Bay pushed off in a steady breast stroke. The shore seemed a long ways away. She hoped she had time to reach it before the transformation came over here.

][

Batman had trained himself to remain motionless whenever he woke up, listening intently for sounds of activity, searching with half-opened eyes for the presence of threats. Getting knocked unconscious was an occupational hazard. Surviving was the trick. He saw that he was inside a forest and that it was late at night, trees were silhouetted against a starry sky, but there was little to no moonlight. Yes, he remembered now, chasing the two wolfmen into the forest, fighting with one. The other he had thought tied up with his batarang must have gotten free. And hit him with a... Glancing to his side he could see a rock about the size of his two doubled fists. Yeah, hit him with that.

Batman felt around his head, finding one large lump in the left side, just past the ear. The only reason he was live at all from his injury was the technology built into his cowl. Inside the lining was a peculiar gel that had the remarkable feature of becoming instantly rigid when struck a hard blow. That hardening had been just enough to protect his head from being cracked open like a melon by that rock. It hadn't protected him from having a painful wound on his head or the possibility of a concussion. His eyes seemed to be focusing alright so maybe he'd dodged that complication.

By degrees he worked himself to his feet. With his head feeling like it was about to explode at every jolt and sway it took a long time. The two wolfman had, of course long since vanished. He consulted the clock in his utility belt. Just after midnight. He'd been out for over four hours. He hadn't blunder this badly since Bane nearly killed him. Walking careful to avoid making his headache worse Batman retraced his steps back the house of Eric Mann, the house Mystery Incorporated was using.

Batman approached the house from the rear. He tended to do things that way, working in the darkness, avoiding being seen. It added to the mystery surrounding him; the fear he wished to instill in the minds of criminals.

He paused with a start when he saw the open back door. The evening was too cool to leave the door open. something was not right within. He slipped up the steps to the porch in a trice and pressed against the wall beside the door, quelled his breathing and listened intently for the sounds of anyone moving about in the house.

It was deathly quiet.

He slipped into the kitchen, searching any place of concealment for danger. He found no one. The pans for spaghetti were still on the stove,, the heat turned off under them. A quick glance showed that the pasta sat in the water partly cooked. Batman remembered seeing Daphne put the pasta in boiling water. Whatever happened here, therefore must have happened shortly after he'd left. There was a note on the kitchen table, pinned under the small, square-faced bottle from Mrs. Peterson. The note could wait.

Batman moved into the living room, checking for injured victims or concealed threats. He noticed the bathroom door hanging in shards in the hallway leading there. He stuck his head in long enough to determine that no one was inside, then went upstairs and checked the bedrooms up there. His search complete, Batman returned to the damaged bathroom to figure out what had happened.

The room was damp as from a recent shower. A towel hung over the shower curtain rod, drying. Across from the shower, sitting on top of the dryer was a neatly folded orange sweater. No other clothes were with it, though. Aside from the broken door nothing was disturbed on the room, no sign of struggle. The door, laying in the hallway suggested that whoever had been inside the bathroom had broken out. A check of the door knob showed that it wasn't locked. So whoever was in the room had a sudden fury to escape the room and forgot that all they had to do was turn the doorknob.

A final check of the bathroom found clothes thrown into the waste basket. Batman knelt and pulled out two orange knee-high stockings, panties and a bra. They were all water-soaked. The stockings were encrusted with muck up to the ankles, but on the soles the mud was compacted and semi-dry. Batman shook out her panties and examined them. There were no rips, tears or strange stains on them. That meant that whatever happened to her, she had not been assaulted. Batman was relieved by that.

He was beginning to form a picture. Velma, for the clothes were obviously hers, had jumped or been thrown into the bay and swam ashore. The absence of her skirt and sweater was probably because she would have had to peel out of them or be dragged down by their weight. Being fastidious, Velma had washed up before doing anything else. But where had she gone?

Batman got up and examined the door frame. As he suspected there were tufts of short, thick reddish-orange hair. He didn't need to bring his monocular into play to know that this was Velma's hair, transformed into a wolfman. He realized that he should have read the note on the table before this.

Back in the kitchen he picked up the note. If he didn't know this was from Velma he wouldn't have recognized the handwriting. Normally she wrote in a small, very neat, looping hand. This was all jagged and uneven:_"Shag chgd. gang capt B I Infected t-"_

'Shaggy changed' he guessed was the first part, but gang what? And who was Captain B? 'I infected too.' That part made sense. But wait, if by 'gang' she meant Mystery Inc. then it wasn't 'Captain B' but 'Gang Captured.' And B. I. ... Bullet Island. But where had Velma gone after her transformation. Possible back to Bullet island but more likely, from what he'd determined from tracking the other victims, they seemed to wander around in a daze for a while. Velma could be anywhere. Damn it, he needed Scooby Doo again.

A growl from the doorway told him he wouldn't have to look far to find the Great Dane.

"Wher' 'Raggy?" the dog grunted.

"Velma's in trouble. We need to find her first!" Batman said.

"No! 'rrr! Shaggy!"

"Velma!"

"R'aggy!"

This is getting anywhere, Batman reflected. And he was out of pemmican with which to bribe the dog, assuming the Great Dane could be bribed to forget about his master for a time.

He stared at the beast for a time before realized that Scooby Doo was no ordinary dog and the usual tricks would not work on him. "I don't know where Shaggy is, but Velma does," he began. "She's been turned into a wolfman but if we can find her I'm sure she can lead us to Shaggy and the others. So to find Shaggy we have to find Velma first."

The great dane narrowed its eyes, either in preparation of attack or in thinking. After a long, tense moment, the dog asked, "wher' R'elma?"

"You have to find her." Batman told the dog. There was another long pause while Batman braced himself for an attack by a dog that weighed nearly as much as he did. Then Scooby Doo dropped his nose to the floor and started sniffing. Wordlessly he lead the way out of the house. Batman rushed back to the bathroom, picked up Velma's sweater and stuffed it into a pouch sewn into his cape. He suspected she'd want it when he found her. He hurried after the dog.

][

The trail lead straight to the Bullet Bay harbor and up and down each of the piers there. Velma must have been looking for a boat to get back to the island and rescue her friends but they had been all taken up for the winter. She then wandered into the forest outside the village, wandered around there until she found the large clearing with the trap and the now cold hamburgers, where the gang had been captured earlier that night. As they entered the clearing Batman could see a raccoon sitting on his haunches on top of the trap set for the newly transformed men. It held one of the day old hamburgers in its paws nibbling on it. When it saw Batman it hissed, stuffed the burger into its mouth and slunk away.

Scooby Doo, seeing the mound of unclaimed burgers forgot about looking for Velma, or Shaggy and made a beeline for the meal.

"Stop! Sit!" Batman barked with such authority that the Great Dane instantly froze.

"Booby trap," Batman explained, showing the dog where the trip wire was located. The dog bowed its head in mournful despair. All that food left untasted!

The ground in the clearing was covered in last year's leaves. These were all kicked up from the earlier conflict. There was no way for Batman to read what had happened. Still he suspected Velma was still nearby. Lured by the scent of the roasted meat, but too wary to be caught in the simple dead-fall. Looking around he spied a large pile of brush. It was maybe six feet high and thirty feet long. Probably made when clearing the woods to set this trap. He looked at it closely and noticed that there was an opening maybe sixteen inches high facing the clearing. Maybe it was a fox hole, or maybe...

"Velma, this is Batman!" he addressed the brush pile. "You're safe now. You can come out."

There was no response. He took the sweater from the pouch in his cape. "I've brought something for you," he told the brush pile and tossed the folded sweater into the small opening into the pile. Moments later a furry hand reached out and snatched the sweater. It disappeared inside the pile of brush, to be followed by some thrashing and rustling inside.

"Velma," he tried again. "I need to rescue your friends but I can't do that until I know you are safe. Please come out from there."

"Forget me. I'm hideous."

Batman looked around the clearing. He was man of doing, of action. He was not comfortable trying to argue with people. Most of the people he had to deal with never listened to reason, anyway. "you're ... changed," he began, "but I know people who deal with this kind of transformation all the time. They can help you, help all the people who have been affected by this disease." He waited and when there was no response from Velma he went on. "I know hideous. Hideous is looking into the eyes of the Joker and seeing no trace of humanity. Hideous is looking at Two-Face and know this used to be ..." Batman stumbled. he was about to say 'a good friend,' but realized that was too much information if he was to keep his identify a secret. Harvey Dent never had that many friends and a smart girl like Velma Dinkley might easily figure out that Bruce Wayne was Dent's friend and... The Batman. "He was a good man," Batman finished lamely.

There was another long pause.

"Your friends..."

"I'm coming." Velma said. The brush pile rustled and a moment later she crawled out from under it. "Thanks for bring my sweater," she said as she stood up and straightened it out.

"Where's R'haggy?" Scooby Doo leaped up placing his paws on her shoulders, rumbling into her face. Velma gave a little cry of surprise, then pushed the Great Dane down. "He's on Bullet island with Daphne and Fred, and the other villagers, I think. There's a bunch of hired guards and motion detectors." She knelt down to give the dog a reassuring hug. "Don't worry, with Batman here we'll rescue him."

Scooby Doo licked her furry face, then spat. "You taste awful," he wheezed.

"Of course," Velma sighed, standing up. "I was going to go back to the island but I couldn't find a boat."

"I brought one?"

"You brought the Batboat?"

"There is no Batboat. That just in that silly TV show." As he was talking Batman had taken a pager-like device from his utility belt and was punching in some numbers and letters on its keyboard. Putting it away he said, "come."

As she followed Velma asked, "Does that mean there's no Batplane? No Bat-copter? Surely you at least have a Batmobile."

"Nor a Bat-dog, or a Junior Batman."

"A Bat-cave?" Velma asked. When he didn't answer she assumed that was a yes."

It was a short hike to the highway. Sitting on the side of the road was a black, GM Suburban. It had tinted windows, solid panels on the sides and a CB whip antenna but otherwise seemed just like every other SUV Velma had ever seen. Without a word Batman walked around to the back and opened the door, reached inside and pulled out a suitcase-sized package. He closed the door, touched a button on the pager device and the car silently drove away.

Velma was feeling confused by all this, then got even more confused when Batman smiled at her. The Batman she knew never smiled at anyone! "_That's_ the Batmobile," he told her.

"But it looks like any other car!" Velma protested.

"I work in the shadows," Batman say. "What better than a truck no one would look at twice."

"Who's driving it? I thought you worked alone."

"Google's not the one researching driverless cars."

The Batman lead them back into the woods and along the shore till they came to a level, sandy spot. He put the package down and pulled on a rip-cord. With a quiet hiss of air it quickly unfolded into a tiny four-man raft. Stenciled on the side was US Navy surplus.

Reaching into a pocket on one sidewall Batman removed four padded leather bags. "Sorry, Scooby, I can't risk your claws tearing a hole in the boat." He handed two of the bags to Velma and picking up a foot slipped the bag over Scooby's paw and velcoed it snug. He helped the dog and Velma into the boat, unfolded a paddle and pushed off from the shore. With silent stroked the envy of any Boy Scout he paddled towards the distant island. As he paddled Velma filled him in on all she knew about the island, mentioning in particular the lights on the boathouse.

When she was finished silence fell over the inflated boat. She was about to ask the Batman something when he whispered, "Sounds carry far across water."

She swallowed her question and turned to face the slowly nearing island. Scooby Doo had buried his head in her lap and she absent-mindedly patted him. She could feel him shivering uncontrollably. Scooby, like Shaggy was intensely loyal but not very brave. She thought about the Batman TV show that she's watched all her life. It was what had encouraged her to become a detective. Whenever she was stuck on a problem she would whisper, "What would Batman do?" And somehow that would always give her an answer. So there was no Batplane, Batboat, Batsubmarine, etc. While the Batmobile was a prosaic car lacking the flaring wings and giant jet engine that had made the TV Batmobile so dramatic. It was kind of disappointing. Then again there was nothing disappointing about the man sitting in the inflatable raft with her. He was dynamic, commanding, masterful in all the ways that the TV Batman attempted to be. Only where the TV actor tended to speak in exclamation marks, the real Batman rarely spoke above a whisper. Perhaps that was to disguise his voice, but ... She knew she'd never be able to watch the TV show ever again the same way, this man was more The Batman then the actor on TV had ever been.

The boat was angling across the point of Bullet Island she noticed and coming up the far side of the strait. The waters here were pretty rocky and navigation was a challenge. Velma keep a sharp look-out for submerged rocks. They found a good landing point about half way up the island and pulled in to it. Batman pulled the raft out of the water and hide it in some bushes. Velma waited patiently. He stepped up to her after a moment. "Your friends are still locked in the cages in the workshop?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"I want you to go free them. Take Scooby with you for protection."

Velma wondered who would be protecting who but didn't say anything about that. "I looked for a key to their cages couldn't find one. And I tossed my file inside Daphne's cage. If she's not awake they still might be locked up. And I don't have another file."

Batman paused in thought for second then reached into his utility belt and pulled out a compact mass that he quickly unfolded into a pair of wire cutters. A leatherman tool Velma noted. Off the shelve components for his utility belt. You can't go around order stuff to be special-made for you without people wondering, paper-trails and all that. And of course none of the decals that the TV Batman had splattered all over his devices. Batman, the real Batman never left behind anything that could be traced to him.

"These should work," he said, handing them to her. "I'm going up to the house to lure the gang out. How many did you see when they were capturing you?"

"Six or eight. Not more than ten. I didn't stop to count, Sorry."

"You've been doing great, Velma," he whispered, sending a torrent of hot blood to her face.

"How can we help once we get free?"

"Stay vigilant. Stay undercover. Don't try to help me. I work best alone."

"Oh..." Velma was audibly disappointed.

"See to your friends," Batman whispered before disappearing into the brush.

"Well!" grunted Velma. "Come on Scooby."


End file.
